Fragile Heaven
by FuckMePumps
Summary: While the moonlight shines on her companions' weary, sleeping faces, Katara has never felt more alone as she faces the reality that Aang might never wake up. PostCrossroads, oneshot. Slight Kataang


**a/n **I know it's a bit late, but I made this after I researched on the season finale and just had to write something for it. Enjoy.

**disclaimer **I don't own A:TLA or 'The Truth About Heaven' by Armor For Sleep.'

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_**I came down here to tell you it rains in heaven all day long,**_

_**I wanna find you so bad and let you know **_

_**I'm miserable up here without you, miserable up here without you…**_

Soft.

Imperfect.

Breakable.

Those were some of the words that described the Avatar (no, not that, not the world's savior, not the master of the elements… for now, just a boy, a young, human boy) she held so, so tight in her arms, not faltering for an instant for the raging fear thundering in her mind that she might lose him again.

Because back in the cave, back to what was a mere few hours ago, back to that single, frightening moment, Aang had been dead. Gone. Never coming back.

And she almost (she never realized how deadly this word was until now) couldn't save him.

Tears instantly sprung beneath her eyes at the thought, but she couldn't let them fall.

She had to be strong.

Her eyes darted over the other slumbering riders of the gigantic bison: Sokka, Toph, Momo, and of course, Aang. All wearing the same expressions of weariness, sorrow, and something close to defeat, and the moonlight that shone on them only made them look pale and unwell. The day had not been kind, and that was an understatement in itself.

She closed her eyes to ensure the prison-like state of the saltwater that threatened to burst from her eyes.

These were the people she had to protect, the ones she loved, her family.

She had to be strong for them.

Her arms tautened around Aang, embracing him nearer to her, hoping that the proximity of a dear friend would comfort her.

She took a deep breath, to inhale the icy night air she wished would clear her head and to catch a whiff of Aang's clean, boyish scent.

Instead, she smelled ashes.

She smelled death.

Her eyes fluttered open in grim surprise, then came upon something that made her gasp sharply in horror.

Gone was the gentle, peaceful face of Aang (not the Avatar, just Aang), the boy she first found trapped within an iceberg, the child she left her own home to help accomplish his impossible mission, the friend she could never, ever replace.

And in its place was a scorched, pitch-black skull.

Her fingers jerked and tensed simultaneously when she clutched not against his fragile and pliant body, but a skeleton, darkly-colored as its head, with hard, stark-white bones that appeared when movement brushed the blackness away.

Aang's bones.

A Fire Nation saying was brought to abrupt attention in the form of unforgiving thought.

_From ashes to ashes._

Ashes…

Fire…

Death.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

Dead. Dead.

Dead.

**Dead.**

The word swallowed her whole in its horrendous abyss.

The skull suddenly moved from its position on her lap and the skeleton sat upright, immediately freezing her in place.

Then, when it seemed she couldn't be more shocked, it did the last thing she expected.

"Katara," it spoke, not with the abrasive song of demise, but with Aang's pleasant, familiar voice.

It stretched a skeletal arm to caress her cheek with a bony hand, and though it was sick and horrible, she was strangely soothed, because at least, even in this twisted form, the boy she knew as Aang was still alive.

Then, as if her heart could afford to be broken once more, the tone darkened, lowering to a bitter, raspy whisper.

"You let me down."

And before her dismayed stare, the skeleton collapsed into a pile of domino speckled dust, which was promptly blown away by the unrelenting wind.

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

**DEAD.**

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She woke up to the texture of the coarse fur that she knew to be Appa's rubbing against her skin, causing a mixture of itching and pain. She didn't mind, because all she wanted right now was a hint of the familiarity that had once been so safe, something to grasp onto when you felt that you were losing yourself.

She felt around, still a bit scared to fully awaken to an empty spot beside her, and then she touched something smooth and warm, with blood flowing through the veins beneath it.

She opened her eyes.

Aang's face was inches from hers, no sign of being burnt (that was all that really mattered), whole and well.

She felt a relieved, grateful smile tugging at her lips as she brushed the back of her hand against his cheekbone, and as she fingered the flawless skin of his brow.

"It was only a dream," she whispered to herself, calmed yet anxious at the same time.

"Just a terrible, terrible dream."

Ever had that conviction that if you repeatedly assured yourself of something, such would come true? It feels awfully good, doesn't it?

But such pretenses never last.

No sooner had she spoken did the piercing, acrid stench of smoke begin to enter her nostrils, alerting the nerves to register the smell in her brain.

It was from Aang's clothes. Hers as well.

Further scrutiny revealed the bruises and scratches that decorated his body, visible even in the shadows of the night.

The promise, or plea, to her will to be strong crumbled.

Weakness seemed more appropriate here, in this lonely, hopeless place, a stitch of nowhere in the universe.

She was reduced to sobbing fat, mournful tears that demanded to be released, crying over the ever-so-cruel reality of fate.

Because the nightmare was real.

And it was here to stay.

_**Don't believe that it's better when you leave everything behind,**_

_**Don't believe that the weather is perfect the day that you die…**_

_Fin_

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**a/n **I know it was short and pretty simple, but I kinda liked it. It's the precious ones that always get to you, no?

Please review.


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